


Chance Encounter

by bssabrzs



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-24
Updated: 2011-08-24
Packaged: 2018-03-13 08:33:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3374813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bssabrzs/pseuds/bssabrzs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only in movies do you literally bump into the love of your life....Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Random

**Author's Note:**

> Slightly AU in that Xabi isn't a footballer. Anything in italic was said in Spanish but since I fail at that language, I avoided embarrassment by putting it in English.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only in movies do you literally bump into the love of your life....Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly AU in that Xabi isn't a footballer. Anything in italic was said in Spanish but since I fail at that language, I avoided embarrassment by putting it in English.

Their first encounter had been like snow falling off the awning of a building and crashing onto Steven's head; abrupt and unexpected yet funny and fast becoming a fond memory. Like most pivotal events, he remembered exactly where he was when it happened but not moments before as it seemed like his life had drastically changed post Xabi.

Fernando's cheeks were red from both the biting wind and his own laughter, explaining to the older man how a mere diaper change turned into a biohazard attack when his young daughter Nora managed to poop on him. With the cold air finally penetrating the remaining warmth from the pub they just exited, Steven was about to zip up his jacket and counter the striker’s story with a potty training horror tale of his own when it happened. Well, Xabi happened.

Steven felt the warm flow of liquid seep through his shirt and trail down from his chest to his stomach, his gaze at the fabric interrupted by a man with an oddly familiar heavy accent apologizing in a language he only understood excerpts of. "Lo siento" and the universally understood groan of embarrassment captured the older man's attention. With a neatly folded map on the ground and a, now, empty coffee cup alongside it, Xabi apologized profusely to the strangers, especially Steven, for having had blindsided them after coming around the busy sidewalk corner.

"I'm uh... I'm sorry, mate... I don't speak Spanish" Steven said, glancing at Fernando in a silent plea. Taking the hint and assumed duty of translator, the blonde asked the new man if he was okay, investigating for any coffee related injuries.

 _"No, no"_ Xabi said to Fernando in a tone that displayed his appreciation for words he understood, shaking his head, patting his jacket pockets in search of a napkin. He offered the small paper consolation to Steven, brows furrowed as he wondered if the coffee would stain. _"Is he okay?..Are you okay?"_ the Basque man added, addressing Steven directly this time. With his limited knowledge and late night lessons from Fernando, the midfielder was able to navigate Xabi's statement of concern.

"Yeah, yeah..." Steven said before shaking his head and chuckling. "I mean, si. Si. No problema" he grinned, the corner of his lips tugging up in a way that made Xabi wonder if he had spilled the drink on his own chest, a warming sensation felt through his sternum. Hands tucked into his pocket, Fernando wondered if this was nervousness Steven was portraying, rubbing at the back of his neck and smiling to himself when the older man’s fidgeting confirmed his suspicions.

"I can pay... Pay for the shirt" Xabi offered in his best broken English, a language he had only recently picked up since arriving in the new city. Between reading German philosophy, although translated, and his extensive collection of Encyclopedias, Xabi mentally kicked himself for not being able to learn the language as fast as he expected of himself.

"No need, lad. It's old...Should probably have thrown it out months ago anyway" Steven said, voice trailing off as he realized he was rambling, earning a raised eyebrow glance from his teammate who wasn't used to witnessing the verbal unraveling of the older man.

Fernando translated, letting Xabi know it wasn't necessary but Xabi insisted, reaching into his partially unzipped jacket, past the thick scarf that protected his neck to grab a pen that was safely tucked into the front pocket of his gray and black plaid shirt. _"Here is my number. I can cover the dry cleaning bill if he just tells me where it's at"_ Xabi said, jotting down a series of numbers on the back of a receipt, handing it to Fernando but respectfully keeping his eyes on Steven.

Handing Xabi his map, which Steven thought was oddly neat and less crumpled than ones he's seen from other tourists, the midfielder offered a quiet "thank you" accompanied with a nod then smiled before parting ways with the new man, Fernando giving the receipt to Steven.

"Zah-bee?" Steven sounded out loud with a puzzled look, glancing down at the name beside the phone number, glancing back over his shoulder at the well kept man that was walking away. Fernando chuckled, putting an arm around the Steven’s shoulders and squeezing lightly before giving him the correct pronunciation.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All publicly recognizable persons, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners and are fictional. The author(s) is/are in no way associated with said person(s) being depicted. Any resemblance is purely coincidental.


	2. Planned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only in movies do you literally bump into the love of your life....Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly AU in that Xabi isn't a footballer. Anything in italic was said in Spanish but since I fail at that language, I avoided embarrassment by putting it in English.

It had only been two days since the run in with Xabi but Steven’s incessant nagging about contacting the new man made it feel like a week to Fernando, the recipient of the midfielder’s hesitant words. Standing in Steven’s granite and cherry wood kitchen, Fernando finally caved in mid-bite through a sandwich the striker was proud of making for himself. 

“Stevie…If I have to hear his name one more time, I’m going to think it’s my own. Why don’t you just call him?” Fernando asked with a shrug.

“Because… I can’t just phone him up out the blue, yeah?” Steven replied, his tone reflecting more self convincing than a solid answer to his teammate, fingers tapping against the counter as the sink ledge pressed to his lower back.

“Ay, dios” Fernando dismissed with an eye roll, putting down his accomplishment and wiping his hands on the basketball shorts he managed to toss before running errands that morning. “Sure you can. Watch.” Before Steven could process what his friend actually meant, Fernando had the older man’s cell phone pressed to his ear, leaning one shoulder against the wall with eyes on Steven. 

_”Hi, can I speak to Xabi?”_ the blonde asked casually once the ringing stopped. 

_”This is he. May I ask who is calling?”_ the Spanish accent wondered, making Fernando’s brows crease slightly from the formal tone, straightening up as if Xabi were in front of him. 

_”Hey… It’s Fernando… I was with Steven”_ he began to explain as he realized providing neither name would help since they had never introduced themselves properly to Xabi. _”Uh, well you bumped into us. Him. A few days ago”_ he continued, Steven’s pacing and hand wringing transferring the older man’s nervousness to Fernando. Fernando decided to walk out of the kitchen because with Steven out of view, he could regain composure. 

_”Is this about the bill? I can still pay”_ Xabi quickly offered, sifting over the recent revelation that the man who witnessed his lack of motor function skills was named Steven. 

_”No, no. We were going to lunch with some friends and figured since you’re new in town, you should come…”_ Fernando invited the other man, Steven finally appearing in the hallway biting his nails. 

Caught somewhat off guard by the polite gesture, it took Xabi a moment to respond. _”Yeah, sure. I mean, sounds great… Will Steven be there?”_ he asked hesitantly.

Fernando smiled at his teammate, receiving a puzzled look and anxious, childish response as Steven whispered “What? What did he say?” _”Yeah, he’ll be there”_ the striker confirmed, taking slight joy in the torture his conversation with Xabi was giving Steven, knowing the other man wished he could hear what was being said, regardless of if it was in Spanish or not. 

_”Great, his bill will be on me”_ Xabi replied, clearing his throat shortly after when the unexpected raise in pitch of his own voice surprised him. 

_”Okay, I’ll text you name and address… See you then.”_ the striker said before hanging up. “Up out the blue” Fernando grinned with satisfaction, handing Steven back his phone before returning to his sandwich.

Their second encounter had been as if it were their hundredth. At a casual restaurant for lunch with friends, Fernando sat between Xabi and Steven as translator at the series of tables the group had pushed together to create their own section. The Spaniard’s English had become decent enough for him to get the gist of the conversation but still he missed out on the wit of slang phrases and at times seemed confused by the several voices overlapping each other. It was only when he leaned toward the striker and asked a question such as “what is ‘knackered’ mean?” that Fernando realized his gap in the language, assuming Xabi knew more than Fernando thought he did from the eloquent way the man carried himself throughout the lunch.

Starting in on a dessert Steven suggested as “ace”, Xabi felt at ease with the vibrant personality of Pepe, Steven and Fernando’s teammate, whose common tongue interjected the English conversation with input Xabi both understood and found funny. Fernando smiled at how well Xabi blended into the group, a tightknit family from the same team that wasn’t too keen on outsiders normally. It wasn’t long until the striker joined in on Xabi and Pepe’s conversation, thick accents flying across the row of tables. “Hey, none of that! I can hardly understand Reina when he starts going on at a million miles an hour!” Jamie exclaimed with laughter. “It’s not my fault your pea brain can’t learn a sophisticated language” Reina replied, nodding toward the Basque newcomer. _“Tell ‘em, Xabi. It is the most romantic language of all!”_ the keeper added. “I think so but the French would disagree” Xabi replied in English, earning the cheers and agreement of a few other teammates, Jamie even leaning over to pat him on the shoulder. “Wise bloke” Jamie smiled.

Steven remained sitting back, observing the banter as he was content with how seamlessly Xabi was fitting in, even through the language barrier. A subtle glance toward Xabi and a crooked smile silently communicated how pleased the older man was that Xabi accepted the invite. Xabi poked at his cake with a fork nervously, feeling as if everyone noticed their exchange of glances, before grinning in silent reply to Steven. A Pisces in every sense, it didn’t take much for intuitive Fernando to pick up on Xabi and Steven’s glances that were traded on either side of him. Wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin and looking at Steven’s boyish haircut, the striker couldn’t recall any other time he had seen his captain seem so youthful except when the spring break fratboy side of Cancun had rubbed off on Steven during a short vacation there.

It was at that moment, with the laughter and his teammates fighting over who would pay the bill, that Steven realized a new timeline in his life. There was pre-Xabi and now; a stage he hoped would continue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All publicly recognizable persons, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners and are fictional. The author(s) is/are in no way associated with said person(s) being depicted. Any resemblance is purely coincidental.


	3. Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only in movies do you literally bump into the love of your life....Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly AU in that Xabi isn't a footballer. Anything in italic was said in Spanish but since I fail at that language, I avoided embarrassment by putting it in English.

"Do you want me to tie your shoes for you too? Maybe help you wipe when you're in the ba-" Fernando was interrupted.

"Piss off! No, mate!" Steven frowned, shaking his head at the striker's implications. "I just... Can't you come?" he asked, a faint hint of pleading in his tone that most wouldn't pick up if they hadn't been around Steven for his most worrisome moments.

"I can't always come with you guys on your little dates" the now brunette answered, reassuring Steven that he no longer needed Fernando present. Xabi's English had improved in leaps and bounds, not to mention Fernando felt like he was watching the footage from a spy camera planted in a couple's bedroom. Intimate glances and all too telling smiles often exchanged in front of him whenever he accompanied the duo for hanging out.

"Date? No... It's not like that. We're just friends" Steven was quick to correct Fernando, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Yeah, and I'm not addicted to lollipops" Fernando shook his head with a soft chuckle. Steven finally conceded to his teammate, knowing that he was on his own for the next encounter. Although he appreciated all of Fernando's help translating and allowing him to remain a bit more in his element by having the familiar man around, the prospect of being alone with Xabi made Steven wonder if he'd have enough to talk about or perhaps too much after making a fool of himself.

"You'll do fine, trust me!" the striker said, waving one hand in the air as he walked through the corridor toward the front door, making sure to pocket a lollipop from the "good behavior jar" Steven kept by the door to indulge in after an extensive practice.

Their third encounter had been like the comfortable stage between being completely consumed by a dream and fully awake to turn off the alarm. At times Steven felt like he was out of his own body, watching himself say things without the ability to stop it. Much to his surprise, Xabi didn't once laugh at him or ridicule him, even when Steven's mispronunciations clearly massacred the Spanish language.

In regular contact of at least one call and several texts a day, Xabi had agreed to teach Steven Spanish and a few Basque terms that should only be used in the fiercest of fights and against someone you were certain you had no plans in talking to ever again. They decided to meet at a cafe off the main roads; the traditional feel of the city surrounding them through the family owned establishment littered with photographs of the town from years ago and framed good-luck money from when they first opened.

Sitting at a booth, the men shared the same side of the table, Steven having had slid in on Xabi's side after the sun managed to all but completely burn his retinas out. The Basque man knew wanting a little shade was too weak of a reason to motivate a hesitant Steven to get closer than an arm's reach yet smiled at the other man’s courage to do so.

With a laptop on the table, Xabi pointed to the screen that was open to an online translation site. "I hate these things sometimes. They are formal. Like a... Machine, you know?" he said, contemplating his word choice before finding one that fit.

"Yeah, I don't get on too well with them" Steven chuckled. He swallowed hard after realizing he was probably staring, Xabi's sunlit profile stunning any train of thought Steven attempted to have moments prior. "So, this is feminine and that's for masculine?" he asked, returning to his makeshift lesson.

"Si. But there are some words, these things do not matter" Xabi replied with a slight shrug, his thick accent rolling over his words. Steven nodded as he comprehended the jist of it, admitting only to himself that the detailed parts of the grammar Xabi so meticulously tried to teach him was lost.

"Goin’ to grab some more coffee. Want anything, mate?" he asked Xabi, shoulder brushing against the other man's as he turned his upper body slightly, preparing to slide out from the bench seat.

"No, pero gracias" Xabi replied, thanking Steven for the polite gesture, earning a smile from Steven that displayed he both understood and was proud of himself for doing so.

Xabi watched the midfielder go up to the counter, ordering and making conversation with the woman fixing his drink, the soft "whoosh" sound of the machine sifting through the cafe as whipped cream topping was added to Steven's drink. He smiled to himself, so far from home yet still feeling the Spanish sun's warmth sweep through his body, glancing out the window toward the paint-chipped shutters of apartments across the narrow, cobblestoned road.

Steven returned with a large white mug, careful to sit without spilling any and barely in his seat before it happened. Sudden yet simple, just like the day he met Xabi. The other man's lips lightly touched Steven's in a kiss that lingered a moment too long but a year too short, the midfielder softly exhaling through his nose. The corner of Xabi's lips curled up into a soft smile before he looked down at his own nervous hands, half hidden under the well-worn, yet sturdy, wooden table.

"Beso" Steven said softly, using his recently learned terminology for 'kiss'. "I remembered that one" he added with a shy smile, ears flushed red. "No masculine or feminine..." Steven's voice trailed off. Xabi chuckling warmly at the other man's characteristic rambling and self doubt that Xabi had, over the past few weeks, found incredibly endearing.

Xabi's long fingers ghosted over the keys, typing in another phrase before hitting ‘translate’ then began explaining parts of the sentence. The Basque man’s voice, already comforting to Steven's ears, now became a steady rhythm in itself. A series of soft tones that was unintelligible as Steven's eyes drifted down to Xabi's mouth, along his jawline then back up to the small creases near the corners of Xabi’s eyes that reflected a life well lived.

It was then, in a quiet cafe, half-bathed in sunlight and getting instructed on another language that Steven realized he reached that next stage of his life. Post-Xabi. That anything before meeting the other man now seemed insignificant.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All publicly recognizable persons, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners and are fictional. The author(s) is/are in no way associated with said person(s) being depicted. Any resemblance is purely coincidental.

**Author's Note:**

> All publicly recognizable persons, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners and are fictional. The author(s) is/are in no way associated with said person(s) being depicted. Any resemblance is purely coincidental.


End file.
